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Author Topic:   The Blue Boar a novel of Richard III
whitewitch111
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From: Hillsboro, OR, USA
Registered: Jan 2013

posted August 07, 2017 06:36 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for whitewitch111     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
I began this novel at eighteen. The emblem of King Richard III was a blue boar, thus the name. I've never been good at naming my novels. and I just now came up with that. XD As some may know, Richard III and Henry VII made battle at Bosworth field. Henry was from the opposing house known as Lancaster, where as Richard was of York.
However, Henry Tudor was from a ******* line, but Richard was from the line of a woman, daughter of Edmund Langley, Duke of York the Duke of York in the reign of Edward III almost one hundred years before. Technically Ricahrd III was the rightful heir, but Henry Tudor won the throne as King Henry VII, his emblem was the red rose of Lancaster and he was very fond of swans. Indeed Swans did not gain popularity in the English Courts until the Tudor Dynasty. Henry VII is as well the father of Henry VIII.
Anyway, this is copied and pasted from my e-mail.

I specifically remember writing this to the Virgin Queen Soundtrack by Medieval Baebes

Lament of the Final King

The Blue Bore, a novel of Richard III

By Frankie Floyd

Meet me when the sun is in the western sky,
Fighting must begin, before another someone dies,
Crossbows in the firelight,
Green sleeves waving,
Mad man raving,
Through the shadowed night-

Sixteenth Century Green sleeves by Rainbow,

Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious by this summer sun of York-

William Shakespeare, Richard III

Part 1, youth

Ch. 1

My first memory is not a happy nor a joyous one, and if it had not happened, I daresay, I could remember things before it, but, it did happen, and it surely left its mark when it did.

I was seven years old, and the war was in its beginnings, the War of the Roses of course.
It had begun when the Queen Margaret refused entry to my father the Duke of York, to the palace. She had sent him away specifically to Ireland to be rid of him forever. They hated each other for how much influence they each had over her husband. My father was not the truest heir to the throne as Mad King Harry, but certainly a claim and more competent to rule.
As the Duke stormed the castle in a great battle of the Queen's forces and his own, there was a genial conversation in the garden of which Dukes who fight for whom. My Father picked a white rose, swearing his allegiance to York and the Duke of Bedford picked a red, swearing his allegiance to the House of Lancaster in which King Henry VI was descended from.
What I can scarcely recall my father saying of the heirs King Edward III is that he spoke of his two younger sons who lived nearly one hundred years ago, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster and Edmund of Langley, Duke of York.
John of Gaunt was the elder one, but he had illegitimate sons, and there were those who thought they should not rule and inherit the throne for this purpose.
Of course, next in line were the Duke of York’s sons, but somehow, John of Gaunt’s son Henry of Bollingbrook, seized the throne, and was crowned Henry IV.
I am descended from this line, and it would not be won for us, until nearly sixty years after Henry IV’s coronation
But back to my first memory.
I awoke next to my brother George, than aged nine. He was sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling to his slow breath.
I looked outside the window in my brother and I’s’ chambers at Ludlow Castle in Wales, the sun was rising, and there was a storm underway. That could easily be discerned by the great grey clouds.
I shivered, but not with the cold, in fear of something that I could not quite place my finger on.
The date was October the 12th, ten days past my seventh birthday, which was marked by little, presents and celebration, as it was hard to be cheerful in those dark times.
I scampered out of the bed, and landed with a loud thunk on the wooden floor. All I could think in my mind was; “Father! Where is my father!” I knew something was wrong, but what I had forgotten at this point, is that my father had left to the call of battle, only a few days before, taking my two eldest brothers, Edward, earl of March, and Edmund earl of Rutland. My father was a general in these times of war, the general of the forces of York, and he had rode out to, once again, meet the Duke of Bedford.
But, what my father had not known was that the French Queen was coming here, to Ludlow.
Though I did not know how or when, I knew death was fast approaching. I could taste it on my tongue, smell it in my nostrils. Yes, death, that terrible thing. It claims the lives of those we love most, sooner then others it seems. I have seen it well in my thirty two years, especially, my beautiful wife, and my dear son, oh, how I miss them so.
But long before these things occurred, there was I, all three foot ten of me, a slim boy, a mop top of black hair upon my narrow head, searching in the darkness of the castle walls for my father.
I suppose I had just awoken from a nightmare, for my father always did give me great comfort when I was afraid.
“Papa! Papa!” I yelled in the faint light, the only reply, my own echo.
Eventually, somehow I had managed to get to the balcony at the top of Ludlow Castle.
Looking to the sky, it was then I remembered my father’s absence gone to battle. Sighing I uttered quietly: “Father.”
I don’t know how long I stood there, weeping silently, refusing to howl out in my agony, I've always had a proud character.
Eventually I walked a bit closer to the edge of the castle hold, hearing what sounded like a band of horse’s hooves approaching, and a clank of chain mail. It all seemed to sound in unison.
I poked my little head over the walls of the Castle, and then I saw it, the little beaming torch lights, held by an army of men, meeting the dawning sky, out over the fields beyond the village of Ludlow.
God had answered my prayers! It was surely my father’s army returning, returning for me, papa had missed me. He had missed me on his lap, cuddling with him, and he telling me stories of his own papa, as I contemplated it in my boyish mind.
The sun was quickly on the horizon, and in childish glee, I began to jump about all over the stone ground.

But this was interrupted when I heard an eruption of screams from the village. Once again poking my head over the stone pillars, I saw utter chaos.
The people looked like ants, scurrying this way and that, running from men in armor riding on horseback, their metal armor shining in the faint sunlight, and their shields bore the crest of the red rose of Lancaster. They wielded swords and bows with arrows, in their arms. What was worse, is that the villagers whom they pursued, were women, children, and the old. Papa had taken all the young men to battle
The people could not fight, only flee for their lives. Their only crime was their devotion to the Duke of York.
I gazed in horror, as a fire erupted somewhere, and the stinging smoke filled my nostrils.
I heard something shoot by my ear, and out of the corner of my eye, noticed a flaming arrow had landed but a few feet from me.
In the blink of an eye, I heard my mother’s voice screaming; “Richard!” A loud bang erupt, and a sudden sharp pain throughout my whole body as she leap to push me out of the way, and with her atop me, I hit the hard stone floor.
A cannon ball had hit the castle wall, and though it hadn’t done much damage, it certainly could have made me no more.
I heard my mother panting, staring at the exploded mass in disbelief.
“Come, Dicken,” she said firmly, grabbing my hand, marching me down the stairs to the third floor. I could still hear the screams, and the explosions of flaming arrows hitting barrels of ale and wine. I felt utter fear grow within my whole self, shock in fact.
My legs were not my own as I began to move. Mother led me to the second floor.
Within the Castle, there was just as much turmoil as without. Servants running about, gathering whatever they could.
Mother, still, holding firmly to my hand, briskly walked passed them.
We had reached the second floor, and by this time I had wet myself with fright, Mother took me in her arms, and began to walk faster.
“Mama!” My sister Margaret called from her chambers, still in her white bed gown, as was my mother, silvery blonde hair down. I hardly ever saw her hair in this attire and strangely enough, it soothed me.
“Mag, to me Lady Daughter!” She yelled, holding out her free hand.
My sister ran timidly towards her, and Mama caught her in her arm.
Holding, me with one arm, and clutching to my sister with the other, we made our way towards George and I’s chambers.
When we arrived there, George was sitting straight up in bed, terrified, obviously sleep was no more to be thought of with him.
“Mama what is…”
“Questions later George,” my mother said nearly throwing me onto the bed, and beginning to sift through the chests.
“George, Dicken pack your things; no toys, what you need only, Mag you help.” She commanded.
I stuck my thumb in my mouth in fear, something I always did at that age, and had not yet been weaned of.
After a few moment of swiftly folding clothes, noticing I was doing nothing, the quasi-wrinkled faced, blonde haired woman, sunk to her knees, on my level, and stared panicked at me right in my face.
“Richard!” She yelled in it, trying to get my attention. It phased me not, I was still in a state of shock.
“Their bags are packed mama!” Margaret yelled over the screams filling the air outside.
My mother shook her head, and grabbed me up in her arms again.
“Go! Go now!” she yelled hurrying, Margaret and George, who were well on their way out the door, holding chests close to them.
I rested my head against my mother’s shoulder, soft with the silk of her nightgown that covered it. I attribute this to the feeling of silk calming me, even in now. I was scared, very scared, but it was almost as if I was too frightened to show it.
Mother looked about her, at the scurrying servants.
The Duke of Ludlow, I remember not his name, was shouting for the servants to calm themselves, though this had little effect on them.
“Richard,” Mother beseeched him. “I need to get my boys away from here, oh god-a-away from this country, to Burgundy is there anyone leaving to Plymouth that you know of?”
“My lady, you might find one leaving the village, there are many who are fleeing, but one to Plymouth I doubt not, and if you can get past the Lancastrians is another matter.”
“None are leaving from the castle!” She demanded.
“My Lady they have laid siege on the Castle, anyone is lucky to escape here now.
“My god so soon?” My mother’s voice trembled.
“Worse yet they are looking for you with the intent to kill thy sons.
I heard my sister break into fearful tears.
“Oh, god, oh god, oh god,” my mother whispered unknowingly into my ears.
“Come we will hide you,” the Duke said grabbing to my mother’s arm.”
“No don’t you see they will find us!” She shouted.
"My Lady we have excellent places for you to hide, come."

“No we must try to escape!”
“My Lady your husband has put you in my care, and I won’t let…"
But she had already wrestled out of his arms and began to run, Margaret and George did the same.

There is more, but I have to find the document in which I got farther on....It is so hard to open Microsoft Word Documents on your e-mail..lol

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Randall
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From: From a galaxy, far, far away...
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posted August 08, 2017 01:23 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
Can you search to find them?

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whitewitch111
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From: Hillsboro, OR, USA
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posted August 08, 2017 08:01 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for whitewitch111     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
Yes! An interesting thing to note also is that the book series: A song of Ice and Fire, turned into the series: Game of thrones is based off the Wars of the Roses.

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Pearlty
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posted August 11, 2017 11:10 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for Pearlty     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote

Interesting! I always enjoy how you incorporate history into your writings

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mirage29
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posted August 14, 2017 03:22 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for mirage29     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
Agree with Pearlty!

Here's what the first song sounds like...
Thrilling.

(music) [The Virgin Queen OST] The Virgin Queen (feat The Mediaeval baebes) [2:13] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KTP6AcZqLOQ

{WhiteWitch.. notice how I remove the 's' from http before I Submit Reply. It allows others to hyperlink right from LL post.)

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whitewitch111
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From: Hillsboro, OR, USA
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posted August 14, 2017 07:08 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for whitewitch111     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
Ok, so I am going to go back and edit that, but I want to display some ideas I was toying with when I first took up this novel.

July, 1467

I was fourteen when I first tasted a woman. Ned, George and I had rode into the village and entered a brothel with a a horse stamped on the wood of the sign outside it.
It smelled of perfume and lust which complimented each other so.
George was eighteen and the twenty six year old King wanted to treat his brothers.
"We'll get you a good one Dicken," he laughed and slapped my back heartily as he passed the reigns of his horse to the stable boy.
"I want a fat thighed blond lass," chided George as we walked in. It was warm and inviting.
There were women walking about, dressed very scantily and colorfully. I felt my **** rise looking at them.
A curly amber haired ***** was sitting on a strong middle aged man with sun-burnt skin and rough wheat colored locks.
"Look!" She chided as he sucked on her right *** , exposed just above the fabric. "Good King Ned is back!"
"Aye, our Good King Ned!" yelled the man who held her, and put his head between her bosom.
"I am not thy King at the moment, I am a man in need of **** ." and he laughed. That was another reason the common folk so loved Ned, he had a way of treating them as if they were his equals.
A heavier middle-aged woman came forward, she was adorned in a low cut cream colored bodice which made her large breasts seem as though they'd pop out at any moment. I assumed she was the Madame of the Manor.
"Ah, Your Grace, 'tis been long since last you came to the girls." He kissed her hand. "I can't stay away from here long Eliza." He said.
She giggled. "And whose this attractive young lad?" She asked looking down at me.
"My brother; Richard; he's never done the nasty before."
I was as tall as the short, stout woman and she smiled. "Well then we will have to find you a good one."

Several minutes later, we were in a room where the bath water was hot and the steam radiated.
Ned had a woman who looked about his same age, her chestnut hair fell straight behind her. She was sitting on his lap, both of them were topless giggling as he licked her nipples.
George was being rubbed by two women, one maybe a bit younger then the woman called Eliza, with rough black tresses, and a very young girl who couldn't have been older then myself, a plump blue-eyed blond-haired lass. She was completely naked and her buttocks made my **** rise as I waited patiently for whoever I would be presented.
I was honored that Ned should have taken me to the brothel with him.
"Take off your clothes lad," he spoke. "Come, we're all men here to relieve our needs, believe me Dicken, no one shall be looking at your ass." And he and George laughed. I giggled nervously along. "He is so modest," chided the middle aged woman massaging George. "Take your breeches off lad!" We'll not look. And indeed George and Ned had returned to their coupling and enjoyment as I stripped.
My heart was thudding as the door opened the woman named Eliza was leading a woman maybe a bit older then Ned with hair the color of cold sand and hazel eyes.
"This is Rose, a good woman to take you my Lord Richard. "She's a rocker," and winked at me.
"Aye a rocker!" cried the woman on Ned's lap. She seemed a vivacious one.
She smiled at my naked body. I could feel the redness piercing face. She laid me back on a green crouch, and slid herself upon me. It was so quick. I was staring up at her, like an obedient boy to a great Mistress. It was simply...euphoric the pleasure that took me. I tried not to give any moans, I wanted to prove to my brothers that I could last long, but it proved no use, as she rode me like a horse the sweat poured out from me. Her eyes were so trusting, she knew exactly how to pleasure me. She'd done it to so many before me, but I felt special in her company that now she gave this joy to me.
She grasped my hands and put them on her breasts.
Afterwords, I was ready again within a very short time, and this time I took her, in a very aggressive manner.
"Aye their you are Dicken!" I heard George yell.
She was screaming. Was I really that good?
My brothers and I truly took our fill that night.

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whitewitch111
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From: Hillsboro, OR, USA
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posted August 14, 2017 07:09 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for whitewitch111     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
Thank you all so much you guys, it really flatters me to hear you say such things. Historical fiction writers add their own twists often, but I try to be as historically accurate as I can.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XWhlbZ9gfCc

written to this song.

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whitewitch111
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From: Hillsboro, OR, USA
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posted August 14, 2017 07:17 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for whitewitch111     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote

King Richard III painted 1483 shortly after he was crowned King.

King Edward IV painted in the late 1470's

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whitewitch111
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From: Hillsboro, OR, USA
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posted August 14, 2017 07:28 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for whitewitch111     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
This was written by William Shakespeare one hundred and seven years after his death in the reign of Queen Elizabeth I. It is extremely historically inaccurate with Shakespeare's own flare. Richard III was actually a very great man who was very in love with his Wife; Anne Neville. However, the Princes in the Tower is one to question for myself. I don't think he killed his brother's children, but I think he ignored that there was the possibility that they had been murdered, who I think was the Duke of Bedford who was married to the Mother of his rival: King Henry VII.
Anyway Anne and Richard were very in love and the order of events is totally embarrassing in some regard. But its Shakespeare you know? Lol anyway, Queen Elizabeth I was the granddaughter of King Henry VII so he most likely added more evil things on his character to impress her.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eG5gqA6cxBM

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whitewitch111
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posted August 30, 2017 05:32 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for whitewitch111     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
info on the infamous French Queen. At eighteen this is what I wrote the opening of this book to. I had a heavy interest grow into her first, and I was trying to decide if I should write about her or Richard III, I chose the latter.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=peqZ2qthnwU

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whitewitch111
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posted August 30, 2017 05:33 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for whitewitch111     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifmAodeWqvI

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whitewitch111
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posted September 05, 2017 10:04 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for whitewitch111     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
August, 1472

Ned and George were on either side of me in the carriage, my drunken head bobbed from one side to the other, one brother to the other to the rhythm of the hooves.
The King was angry, I knew he was. But I didn't care. Katherine was dead, how could I care?
At nineteen years old, I wanted to forget that I was the most powerful Lord in the Realm with two young children. I had gone to the tavern disguised as a commoner with of course the intent to be drunk, gamble, and fight, which when Ned had to bust in with his guard and see me being beaten on by five common men for purposely cheating them out of money, he fumed.
The King's guard was upon them and he grabbed me by the collar, dragging me out.
"By God, Lad, look at yourself!" He shouted.
"Is this how the Duke of Gloucester behaves!"
"I never wanted to be the Duke of Gloucester," I slurred and almost fell down.
He grasped me.
George walked out that moment, a ***** on either side of him.
"George! Why were you not watching him!?" The King shouted.
"Oh, we thought Dicken could use women and drink." He replied.
"Here Ned, one for you, one for me," and he thrust the harlot on his right side towards Ned.
She seemed insulted.
"I'll not be treated like this!" She hollered. The high pitch of her voice made me puke with the migraine it brought.
"Oh, by all means, and go and tell thy master how you failed to service the King and his brother."
The King tossed a purse to her. "Tell neither of you what you've seen this night."
And the other let go of George's hand, as they disappeared back into the bar.
"Dicken, I know you miss Katherine..."
"Speak not her name!" I shouted. "******* you! Speak not her name!" And I went at him.
Of course in that state he was much stronger then me and held me firm.

"I can walk." I spoke, after Edward and George had gotten me to my manor. Edward caught me as I attempted to walk on mine own.
"No, No you can't Dicken," he said consolingly.
I collided into a table with a vase on it even so, the crash caused my children's governess to come rushing down the stairs.
"Now, what is this at...!" She shouted.
"Oh...Your Grace," and she bowed.
"Go on and get some water, my Lady." He said. "Warm, let's get it out of him now."
"Yes Sire, and some bread?"
"Please."

I awoke groggily the next day. Kate was sitting on Ned's lap.
"Look Uncle Ned!" She chided. "Papa, is awake!"
"Good morning, Sweet Heart." I spoke. And felt my stomach want to empty itself.
He giggled. "Yes Kate, he is, why not go and play with the doll Uncle Ned got for you while Papa and I talk." She smiled, and gave me a big hug before her governess came for her.
Now his anger came.
"I've entrusted you this Dukedom, before any of my friends, before any of my cousins, and even before George and this is your thanks?" He wasn't yelling, but it was that quiet type of mannerism he had when you knew he was truly disappointed in you.
"I know, I know you've not taken...it well, Katherine's passing. I know, she was your love for four years...And I know that John and Kate way on you. I know it Lad."
"You do, do you?" I asked, and put the pillow over my head to block out the light tracing in through the window.
I was angry at him, oh yes I was.
But then I heard a shaking in his voice.
"Anne Neville's not dead, Richard." He said.
I bolted straight up from the bed upon hearing it.
"She didn't die on the ship Lad, she's in Bedlam."
Any ailment I felt was forgotten.
It was almost as if the grief felt for Katherine was gone, now that I knew Anne was alive.
"But...you knew then..and it was you..."
"I've provided well for her Dicken, very well, she's not shackled or anything like that."
"But you have..." I couldn't think. It had been six years since I had seen Anne. Would she still want to marry me? Was our plight still troughed? Did the promise matter still?
"We ride out tonight." Spoke the King. But I was already dressing myself. "We ride out now." I replied.

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whitewitch111
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From: Hillsboro, OR, USA
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posted September 12, 2017 06:13 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for whitewitch111     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
It had been six years, six long years, and yet, her red hair danced in my mind, a fire that lit mine heart.
But, how could Ned had lied to me? Lied to me for a year?
Bedlam truly was the horror they had described.
"Bow! Bow!" Commanded the nuns to the mad and or simple minded women, which some of them did, but in a sloppy manner according to their ailment. The noble women disposed of various fallen family's did the same but in a begrudging manner it seemed.
The Arch Abbess addressed us right after we had rode through the black gate which in its own regard gave a heavy feeling such as I had never known before, its decaying iron was what did it I'm sure.
"Good day King Edward," she said. It was somewhat intimidating to see her large habit and heavy clothing and her wrinkled face.
"Let us to Anne Neville." He commanded, and she bowed her head and lead the way.
"She is a good woman, Sire. She does not grumble nor wine of her confinement, and she does not terrorize the guards like the others, she accepts her fate, and even helps with the kitchens."
The smells of old and rancid urine stung my nose as we walked. Mine ears were filled with yelps of the mad-women. It shocked me that the Arch Abbess seemed so used to it. 'How shameful it is that Anne should be here and Isabel the Duchess of Clarene, oh Isabel did not care for her sister as well as she said if indeed she let her sister be hauled up here. But why had no one told me!? The thought stung me with a rage.
"But this was soon forgotten when the door to her chamber was open.
She was sitting in a chair, by the window. The sun light was shining upon it, illuminating it into soft thin flames. For a slow moment, before she turned her head, I was still enthralled at her tresses and did not notice her face for a good while.
She squinted her eyes at me, and I smiled. She gasped, mine angel and pressed her hands to her mouth.
"Dicken!" She chided, can...can it truly be?"
She was still modest, still shy as ever, so she did not rise, I took it as no insult, I knew her temperament.
Ned had certainly provided well for her, she had a fireplace, and many fabrics that I knew he must have personally sent her, as no one in this place could have a hope of owning, lined a large chest in the corner.
"Rise Anne Neville," said my brother graciously. And so she did. It was then I realized how thin she still was. How thin...I said a silent prayer that it was due to the miserly food the unfortunate souls here must have been made to consume.
She was beautiful to me, but I worried for her health even then.
It touched me how many were sad to see her leave.
"Won't you come back?" sobbed a simple-minded woman who was at least ten years older then her.
She kissed her forehead.
"No, no Lucy, I do not think so, but need not you forget how to make lamb's mince."
She took very clothes with her, the rest she left to the accursed place.
As I mounted her on mine horse, a group of residents and nuns gathered around her with wet eyes and loving looks.
As we rode out a bit further she grasped mine hand.
"You found me," she said. It was the first words she directly spoke to me that day and she grasped mine hand as the horse picked up its gallop.
She was so frail and it made me all the more protective and loving of her.
"We shall never be separated again." I said, and nuzzled her ear.


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whitewitch111
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From: Hillsboro, OR, USA
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posted September 12, 2017 06:14 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for whitewitch111     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHfV726s5hI

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mirage29
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posted September 13, 2017 02:42 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for mirage29     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
{wow!! can hardly keep up here.. oh nooo.
What a Creative Individual! You Go Gurl! }

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